


Holidays, Holinights

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Bad Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Multi, Nonbinary Blanche, Nonbinary Character, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: Mixing food, family, and feuds is difficult enough on its own. It's even harder when you regularly try to kill each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> This is a series of little glimpses I wrote while dodging family members and taking food coma naps. Hopefully it makes sense? It's unbeta'd, again, so please keep that in mind!
> 
> As always, please be sure to send [surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) all your love and support! ❤

“Amelie, I don’t feel well. Let’s go back.”

“Boss, you’ve been trying to convince me you were ill all day. It didn’t work this morning, it didn’t work when we left the compound, and it most certainly won’t work now.”

“How can you be so heartless? What if I really _am_ sick? Do you want to be responsible for infecting the entire-”

“Noire,” Amelie said, the sharpness of her tone indicating she’d finally reached the end of her patience (a feat in and of itself), “Will you quit being such a big baby? It’s just a _party_!”

“A _party_ surrounded by all of our _enemies_! What if it breaks out into a fight?”

“Like you would complain.” The redhead shook her head, breathing out an impatient breath. “Besides, it’s not like Spark will let anything happen. Everyone agreed to be civil this evening, on pain of death.”

“How can you trust him so easily?! I thought you of all people would-”

“Because _you_ do.”

Noire shut their mouth, teeth clacking together, glaring at her wordlessly. Amelie simply stared back, planting her feet with crossed arms, _daring_ them to try and get around her and go back down the elevator. (Granted, they’d tried already several times to slip away, but this amount of hostility was just unnecessary!)

“Low blown, Amelie,” they growled through gritted teeth.

Amelie scoffed, uncrossing her arms to shoo them along. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

They trudged forward grumpily, head bowed and shoulders tense. She could call them childish or whatever she wanted - they didn’t care. Really. But the thought of having to play nice around a bunch of people they could barely stand on a _good_ day did not sit well with them. If they could build a time machine, they’d go back and punch their past self in the face for promising Spark to come to this stupid thing in the first place.

Well, maybe. There were admittedly many things about their past Noire’d change if they could that probably should trump getting out of attending some silly party.

(They stubbornly resisted the urge to look back, feeling the weight of her one good eye resting heavily on their spine.)

\----

“Oh, hey! You made it! You’re the last ones, too.”

“Beedrill.” was all Noire could say, staring at the yellow and black striped _monstrosity_ of a sweater Spark had on when he greeted them at the door. At least his pants were decent - simple blue jeans instead of his usual leather pair.

The Team Instinct leader blinked at them, looking over to Amelie for a possible explanation. She shrugged, sliding passed him to enter the luxurious warmth of his apartment.

They huffed, yelping when Spark apparently gave up trying to decode their greeting and tugged them in as well.

“Let go, dipshit!” Noire snarled, swatting at his hands when he tried to help take off their coat. They could hear the murmur of other people further in his apartment, the smell of cooking food and candied sweets filling the air and making their mouth water.

Spark just huffed, hands on his hips as he watched them shrug off the garment themselves and kick off their shoes. He led them down the hallway, pausing mid-step and backtracking to swing into the kitchen.

Noire followed him, brows rising when they spotted their twin standing by the oven and reaching toward the spoon sticking out of a small simmering pot.

“Blanche,” he crooned, voice light but strained. “Mystic moon of my starlit sky.”

(They may have snorted at the petname.)

Blanche flinched, pausing when they noticed Noire before looking directly at blond right next to them. “Spark, I-”

“ _What_ do you think you are doing?”

“I was just- It l-looked like it needed stirring,” they said quickly, guiltily moving their hand away from the ladle.

Spark hummed, smile all teeth. “Noire, please escort your twin _out_ of my kitchen before I truss them up tighter than the turkey,” he threatened sweetly, not even bothering to look away from Blanche.

They _knew_ that thunderous echo to his voice and immediately spun Blanche away from the oven, marching them both out of the kitchen as quickly as they could. Noire heard Spark huff, sighing as he went back to work on the meal’s preparations in peace.

“I’ll take that to mean you still can’t cook for shit,” they teased once the two of them made it to the living room, grinning at the annoyed look that flashed across Blanche’s face.

They shrugged Noire’s hands off their shoulders and turned to face them, cheeks pinking slightly. “You’re not much better,” they accused, crossing their arms.

“Ah, but you admit that I _am_ better than you. Took you long enough!”

Blanche didn’t dignify that with a response, huffing and walking over to sit next to Candela and their assistant on the couch.

Amelie was chatting quietly with Candela’s assistant, a glass of wine somehow already in her hand. Noire was surprised to see a few of their own team members strewn about in the small living room, Spark’s assistant playing a card game with a couple of them on the center table.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone, so a couple of large (fluffy!) Pokemon had been released to act as proxy furniture. They recognized Candela’s fearsome Arcanine curled up next to the wall, Amelie’s Ninetales exchanging cursory sniffs before bedding down next to it. Blanche’s Vaporeon was flopped over the back of the couch, paws twitching as he dreamed.

Donglord came up to them, bristled fur sparking slightly as he growled.

“Shut up, I’m not here to cause a scene!” they grumbled, shooing him away. At the sound of their voice, their team members looked up, greeting them in typical Rocket fashion - that is to say, _uproariously_.

Noire took special pride in the deeply aggravated (and mildly jealous) look Candela shot them.

\---

“Okay, Spark? _Please_ quit being a team leader.”

Spark choked and scrambled for his glass, chugging down half of it before staring at Candela with teary eyes. “What?” he croaked, coughing, “Why? What did I do?” There was a slight shift in pitch to his voice, genuine anxiety bleeding through.

Candela just took another bite of the turkey on her plate, humming happily as she chewed. “I want to hire you as my personal chef,” she sighed, almost a moan, “Everything tastes _divine_!”

“Agreed,” Blanche said, leaning around her to nod at him, “You did very well.”

“Aw, thanks guys!”

“I’m serious, Spark. Come work for me. You won’t regret it!”

“Man, I don’t know. I kinda like being team leader. It’s fun and I have great access to a bunch of Pokemon eggs for all my egg-related needs!” He chuckled, shoulders relaxing as he went back to eating. “Would I have to wear a uniform?”

“That would be optional.” Candela said, smiling when he snorted. She took a sip of her wine, studying him with half lidded eyes. “In fact, _all_ clothing would be optional.”

It was Blanche’s turn to choke.

\---

Noire slipped out onto the balcony that connected to Spark’s bedroom, sighing in relief when the cold night air slapped them in the face. Pulling out a package of cigarettes, they plucked one from the box and lit it, their next exhale made of smoke instead of a steam.

They sat - perched, really - on the single patio chair that decorated the porch. The city was quiet, only soft murmurs could be heard from the street below, music playing from the party going on behind them. The food had been great - the company, less so. This was an island of silence and solitude and they were grateful for it.

The balcony door slid open.

“Oi, dipshit, I thought I said I wanted to-” Noire almost dropped their cigarette when Blanche stepped out.

The Team Mystic leader acknowledged them with a small tilt of the head, eyes glittering.

“What do you want?” they muttered, frowning and taking another drag of their cigarette.

“Just wondering if you were going to let your Eevee out tonight,” they said, motioning behind them, “My Vaporeon keeps bugging me for her since you are present and we are currently not battling.”

Noire snorted, fingering the Pokeball on their belt thoughtfully. They wondered if they could be so petty, so cruel. Sighing, cursing their own weakness, they flicked it off its carrier and clicked the button, releasing their favorite ball of brown fluff.

Their Eevee shook herself, squeaking in discomfort at the cold concrete of the porch. She caught sight of Blanche and immediately fluffed up, backing away until she was pressed against Noire’s legs. “Easy,” they said, reaching down to pet the top of her head, “Your brother’s in the other room.”

She perked up at that, letting out a pleased chitter. She moved toward the still open balcony door, skirting shyly around Blanche before bolting through it. They could faintly hear Vaporeon’s mewl of joy, some of the party members laughing at what was probably a _very_ cute reunion. (Hopefully there was someone taking pictures that they could find later.)

Noire looked after her, noting the brief moment of concern that flickered across Blanche’s face.

“Why does she do that? She didn’t used to...”

“ _Gee_ , I wonder why!” Noire snarked, rolling their eyes. They expected their twin to leave and return to the party, surprised when they simply shut the door. They took another drag from their cigarette, letting the smoke hang in their mouth and lungs for a moment, aching sweetly, before breathing it out in a slow fog.

“Those things will kill you.” Blanche intoned, looking down at them from the doorway.

Noire hated it when they did that.

“Do I look like I care?” they replied, snorting, “Besides, we both know it’d take a miracle for _cigarettes_ to be my cause of death.”

Pain flashed across Blanche’s face. “If that’s how you choose to live, then I will not stop you,” they said, mouth flat with unhappy tension, “I just live in fear that the next call I get will be about you dying in a fire while you slept.”

Noire tipped their head back and laughed, smoke spilling out between their lips. “Is that so?”

“Among other things,” Blanche muttered, looking out into the night, “All it takes is a spark.”

They stepped closer, unconsciously, perhaps, and Noire took the liberty of putting an arm around their waist and tugging them closer, head resting against their ribs. Their twin stiffened, breath hissing when they inhaled, before they hesitantly put an arm around their shoulders.

(Ah, their heart hurt from how nostalgic this was.)

“A single spark and then - _whoosh_!” Noire finished, flicking the butt away. The two of them watched it - a little ember flying up, arching over the railing of Spark’s balcony and pausing to be haloed in the rising moon, before sinking down and out of sight.

They wondered if they were still talking about their smoking habits... if they ever had been.

The two of them stood in silence for a long while, the cold night air ignored in favor of basking in each other’s heat and presence. Noire pressed their ear to Blanche’s side, throat tight as they simply listened to them breathe. Their twin’s heartbeat was soothing and painfully in synch with their own, and their eyes fluttered when their fingers started moving through their hair.

“ _Mon chou_ ,” Blanche said quietly, expression softening slightly when they looked up at them, “You-”

The balcony door slid open, a harried-looking Spark peering out at them. “Uh, hey,” he said, “I _really_ hate to break up your twin-y moment but I could use some help.”

“What’s wrong?” Blanche said, immediately alert as they stepped away from them. Noire ignored the pang in their chest as they did so.

Spark scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, well, some more Rockets showed up. Great guys, really, polite even. But Amelie’s gone off with Carl, booze games have started, and, um, long story short: Candela’s about two shots away from taking off her top and kicking someone’s ass - or making out with them.” He paused to shrug, laughing nervously. “You know how she is.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Rewind!” Noire snapped, sitting up straighter, “Amelie’s _gone_!? With Valor’s fucking assistant?!” Betrayal tasted bitter on their tongue.

(Were they overreacting? Probably. Did they give a single, solitary fuck? No.)

“Uh, yeah. She told me to tell you to behave and sleep over here tonight. Or something like that.”

“Behave?” they growled, lurching out of their seat, “She wants me to _behave_?!”

Spark paused, frowning when he saw their incensed expression. “Dude, on second thought, maybe you should sit this one out.”

“I agree. Noire, you need to-”

“Fuck that,” they hissed, shoving past the two of them and storming through Spark’s room toward the living room, “If that Valor bitch is looking for a fight, I may as well give her one. Fucking _behave_ will I? Ha!”

Spark and Blanche exchanged a quick glance before following them.

\---

“An’ _another_ thing-”

“Here we go, buddy. Keep your twin company for a bit while I finish putting away the food, okay?”

Anger turned into excitement into joy. Emotions were hard to keep a hold on, slipping through their fingers and spilling over. Bleeding one into the other.

The bed was soft and they bounced, grinning and whooping, when Spark tossed them onto it. They watched him leave, pouting, wondering why he’d take his hands off them when they wanted them _on_. He really was cruel.

Noire hummed, turning slightly to look blearily at the form next to theirs. Blanche’s face was flushed, just like their own, and they were smiling sleepily at them. The expression was so open, so soft, that they found themselves struck dumb just by the sight of it.

The two of them nuzzled closer without speaking a word, both sighing happily when their legs tangled together. A shadow fell across them.

“Spark, trash’s ‘posed to go in the trashcan - _not_ in the bed.”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, Candela. This is kinda _definitely_ your fault.”

“Hey! ‘s not _my_ fault neither of ‘em can hold their liquor! ‘specially not that _Rocket_.”

“Yeah, well, neither can you. Go take a shower, ya drunken floozy.”

“Heh, only if you take one with me!”

Blanche pouted at the loudness of the other two’s voices, tucking their head under Noire’s chin. They pressed a sloppy kiss to their bangs, grinning when they hummed happily and tugged them closer. Their hands were cold as shit against their back, but their warm face was welcome against their neck.

Delight was a funny sensation when the world was kind of… _swimmy_. Overwhelming. Noire giggled, their own mirth bubbling over into their twin and making them snicker into their collarbones.

“Yer so cute, Blanche,” they whispered, slurry, malformed words tumbling past their lips, “So fuckin’ cute. Why... Why’re you so cute, huh?”

“Iunno,” Blanche said shyly, snuggling closer, leaning into them like they were trying to slip under their skin.

Noire wondered hysterically why they hadn’t thought of that before, pressing another kiss to the top of their head.

Time got skewed and next thing they knew a very wet, very _naked_ Candela was sliding up behind Blanche, biting the shell of their ear and making them let out precious little noises. Their heart rate kicked up into high gear and they swatted at her, flustered for _far_ too many reasons they had neither the time nor the brainpower to ponder.

“Back off, ya flaming harpy!” they hissed, tugging their twin further into their arms, trying to roll them both and failing, “Blanche ‘s _mine!_ ”

“Can’t we share?” she whined, legitimately pouting.

And then, maybe, her lips were on theirs, her hands sliding up their front. Their fingers tangled in her hair, not sure if they should push her away or pull her closer. Maybe it was the booze, or their own libido, or even the fact they were so touch-starved they’d have reacted to just about _anything_ , but they found her more tolerable when she had Chardonnay on her tongue.

Noire would be grateful, later, that Spark had come and pulled them apart - but, at the time, they growled and swatted at him, reaching toward her again.

“Geeze, I can’t leave you guys alone for anything, can I?”

Then he was picking them up, their world spinning, clothes being pulled off. They wondered, hazy and wanting, if he was going to mark them instead. They wondered why that thrilled them so much.

Then the shower was on and they shrieked as a torrent of cold water smacked into their face.

“What the _fuck_?!”

“Do me a favor and sober up quick, okay? I’m gonna try and convince Candy that pants are the next big thing.”

The shower didn’t help their coordination much, but it did make them more alert, more aware. The world slowly started to reassemble, bits and pieces forming together and making them realized the gravity of the situation they'd nearly gotten themselves into. The one they were in wasn't all that great either, actually. Noire cursed, bitter and cold, swallowing their pride and almost choking as they sat leaning against the tiles and let the ice water pelt them.

At least their tears were warm.

They couldn’t meet Spark’s eyes when he came back in, twisting off the tap and handing them a towel without comment. He even tossed in some sleep wear - a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt. It had a Meowth dangling from a tree branch on it, the words ' _Hang in there!_ ' printed in blocky letters beneath. How awful.

(They committed to stealing it later.)

He didn’t try to pick them up again, thankfully, but he did force them to lean on him as they trudged back to the bedroom, arm warm around their waist and rubbing soothing circles into their skin as they shivered and tried to remember how to walk.

Candela and Blanche sat on the bed, her fingers brushing through their hair and attempting to braid it, their eyes half lidded as they sipped some water. They, too, looked vaguely more coherent, and Noire sullenly contemplated if their ice bath had even been necessary. Both had on one of Spark’s shirts - though Blanche had apparently chosen the awful yellow and black sweater he’d been wearing all evening.

Noire and Valor’s leader exchanged heated glances, scowling when she scoffed and tugged them down onto the bed. There was shuffling, grunts of annoyance and hums of something else, but eventually the three of them were back in the position they had been - Candela spooning their twin with them plastered to their front.

“Would it surprise anyone if I said I’ve had this exact dream?” Spark said, pulling the duvet over the three of them and slipping underneath it to press against their back. The bed creaked in protest at the combined weight of four adults being on it, the body heat almost suffocating, but Noire finally relaxed when his arms were slung across their waist.

“Was there less clothing involved?”

“There was _definitely_ less clothing involved!”

\---

Candela padded quietly down the hallway, wincing at the small amount of light the dawn cast into the apartment. She was vaguely nauseous, annoyed by it, but also hungry enough to eat the next thing that appeared on her horizon. Sex would also be nice - it was the privilege of the strong to indulge their hunger, after all, in whatever form it may manifest.

She spotted Blanche leaning against the wall, peering into the kitchen but making no move to enter. Smiling, she walked up behind them, resting her chin on their shoulder as her arms encircled their waist.

They acknowledged her with a slow blink, not even glancing in her direction. Something mewed at her. Candela looked down to see her Flareon being cradled in their arms, pouting at the smug look it sent her. Little shit.

She couldn’t help herself from making a small, surprised noise when she finally looked into the kitchen, frowning slightly soon after. Spark was by the stove, reheating some of the food from last night, humming as he swayed and moved about. He had no shirt on (nice) and his sweatpants hung low on his hips, showing off the dimples on either side of his spine (even _better_ ).

What a dork.

Noire sat on the counter next to him, a mug of coffee held in both hands. They looked pale, obviously tired and strung out, their hair pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of their neck. But they hid a smile into their mug when Spark did something particularly cute, eyes softer than she’d ever seen them.

“Well,” Candela said in a breath, “That’s… _something_.”

Blanche hummed in agreement.


End file.
